


Dear Professor

by camincya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, But also, Castiel Has a Religious Family (Supernatural), Castiel has problems, Castiel is 16, Dean is 30, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, God | Chuck Shurley is Castiel's Parent, John Winchester A+ parenting, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Naomi is Castiel's Parent (Supernatural), Older Dean Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Student Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Underage - Freeform, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), Young Castiel (Supernatural), and sometimes - Freeform, like a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camincya/pseuds/camincya
Summary: When Dean decided he wanted to become a teacher and work at Lawrence High School, he sure didn't know what to expect.Okay, fine... Yes, he knew about the girl's yearnings. About the mean looks. About the "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't do my homework". And on and on.But a totally unexpected thing was to read an anonymous note the first day of school, asking him for help.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. Help me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's me again with another story in mind. Hope you'll like this fanfic!!

When he wakes up, Dean knows it is about to be a long, long day. He is almost 30 and it’s not his first rodeo, yet today, everything seems… blurry. And, yeah, okay, it is probably because of his hangover but, for his defense, it was unexpected. Well, the hangover was predictable, all right… but not the little party Charlie has organized.

The alarm clock is still ringing and it almost takes all dean’s willingness to reach his arm out of the bed and turn it off. He vaguely hears something coming from the right side of the bed, and he can tell something – someone – is moving. Fuck. He doesn’t even remember getting led yesterday… if only he could guess the name right just not to be the douchebag. Instead of pushing his luck, he, as silently as possible, escapes from the bed.

As far as he can see, and by the layout of the furniture of the bedroom, he can tell it is his room. At least, he plays at home. Good thing, he supposes. He needs to make her leave his apartment before he goes to work.

\- “Not one of your chicks, dumbass”, he hears coming from the bed.

And oh god does he know about this voice. He immediately stops at the threshold and comes back to the bed, grabbing pants on his way back to it. A redhead emerges from under the sheets. Still half asleep and robbing her face with both of her hands. 

\- “Charlie, thank god”, he sighs in relief. Maybe not everything is as bad as he thought. At least, there is no mysterious hook up from last night. A phone on the nightstand buzzes next to Charlie, immediately followed by an intense light which causes pain to strike his head and eyes. He pokes his head in his hands in pain, cursing himself for having the stupid idea of celebrating Charlie's new job the day before school starts. So stupid. He looks like the student he was: A young novice; not a man of thirty who has to deal with teenagers.

Because of the light, he hears Charlie mumble and sees her hide in the bedsheets. It is not the first time he has slept with Charlie in the same bed, not after almost twenty years of friendship. The missing member of the crew is nowhere to be found, probably gone yesterday with a new conquest, or laying on the couch.

\- “I hate your phone”, he says through clenched teeth. “For fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to go to class like this.” He achieves to walk towards the living room. No one is here. Not even benny on the couch.

\- “Lucky girl, I guess”, Charlie says behind him, as she walks through the room to fall on a chair. She is wearing one of Dean's shirt, used as a pajamas. 

\- “Not to be that kind of guy but it’s probably the chick you’ve been pinning for the whole night, yesterday…

\- What? Bela? No… She wouldn’t…”, she adds, not believing it herself.

Dean rolls his eyes to heaven and prepares two cups of coffee. His head is getting even more painful by the time and it will be worse with the light. He escapes into the bathroom and picks the whole aspirin box.

When he comes back into the living room, Charlie welcomes him like he has won a battle, him alone against an army, which makes Dean smile. While coffee is getting a little bit less scalding, he hands Charlie a glass of water to take with the drug. Surely, his head will be better in an hour or so. It has to be.

\- “First, you take aspirin, second, shower, third, get dressed and then you can eat something before being the brilliant professor every student wish they had once in their lives”, Charlie enumerates, raising a finger at each new step. “Go shower while your coffee is still hot, I’ll make breakfast.

\- Don’t say that, it makes me want to spend more nights with you, you know”, he jokes but still obeys Charlie.

On his way, he grabs some clean clothes and hurries in the bathroom, in need of the promise of hot water. He remembers what happened yesterday, he wasn’t that drunk. It was supposed to be a small party. And it was not even supposed to be called a party. Just him, Charlie, Benny, Sam, and Eileen reunited to congrats Charlie. But yesterday, Dean forgot that Benny is Benny. Or maybe he wanted to forget about it and just have fun. God... He needed to stop thinking about Lisa. And he also forgot that he can’t say no to drinks if a cute girl is tempting him with it. So benny came with some special guests and said guests with more, etc. And they quickly became almost fifty. The apartment is a mess because of the new decorations: empty bottles, spilled glasses or which have been used as ashtrays and the obvious traces of alcohol residue.

\- “… with a headache. This is sooooo great… I’m not thanking you for yesterday, dumbass”, he says through clenched teeth the last part of the sentence from the bathroom, thinking about Benny.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror. Single, thirty and a hangover like he’s a fucking teenager. Dean Winchester in all his glory.

\- “Not thanking you either”, he replies to the man who is looking at him in the mirror.

A quick shower and wearing clothes instead of his old pajamas is far better. Moreover, the aspirin is working and he thanks God for creating such a miracle as this saving-life drug. He jumps when he hears knocks on the door. Charlie. He had forgotten that Charlie was waiting for him in the living room.

\- “Hey, buddy, your coffee will get cold. Besides, I’m not sure you want to be late for the first day of school –“, she starts saying before being interrupted by Dean opening the door. “I know some girls and boys will be crushing about the beautiful professor Winchester”, she says with a smirk.

\- “Shut up”, he answers with a sigh. “Not gonna fulfill your dream of the student in love with his teacher or something along with that.”

It sure isn’t Dean’s fantasy to do whatever sexual stuff to a minor, and it has never been. And even if he is used to being the center of the gossips at school – such as who he would date, how does he kiss or even his favorite position during sex and other very interesting questions about his private life – why on earth would a sixteen teenager be interested in having sex with someone as old as him. Deep down, Dean knows some of his students may be crushing over him: the insistent looks, the little messages, the way-too-tiny skirts or dresses. But it is only a fantasy. A one-lifetime hookup the girl or boy will be glad to live and tell, and for Dean, a very good vacation in jail-land. No, thank you. No cute smile could do that to Dean.

\- “Remember that girl… Jo Harvell?”, Charlie asks out of the blue while they are eating the pancakes she has just cooked.

\- “How could I not remember her. Okay, so what’s the point?”, he answers, suspicious of what could come next.

\- Well… You know I had a “thing” for her. And she had a “thing” for you.

\- Yeah, you told me that about a hundred times. I thought you were talking about pervert teachers doing illegal kinds of stuff with underage teenagers, but please, go on talking about the cute and lovely Jo Harvell.”

She sighs like some kind of drama queen, doing a bitch-face as only Sam can do. She almost has it. Almost perfect, but she can’t beat the master.

\- “Jo, before you, was into one of our professors. Rufus Turner. (Hearing this, Dean almost suffocates, sharing between shock and laughter). Yes, I know”, she goes on while laughing too. “So she was there, talking all day long about her dear professor. She just wouldn’t stop and it was so funny when, one day, Turner discovered about this –

\- But he was like what? fifty-five? Sixty maybe?

\- Jo could tell you precisely the date of his birth, the year and in which hospital he was born. Not joking.”

They have to stop to laugh, almost choking on their food or coffee. Now it’s Dean’s belly’s turn to ache with pain. It takes a few seconds for him to reach his phone, having a new message incoming.

\- “Ah, Sammy being the dad, here.

\- Well, you’re the mum, someone needs to be the dad. What does he want?

\- Knowing if we’re awake. Me more than you.

\- Wow, we really must have drunk if your brother is babysitting us…”

They remain silent the time Dean texts his brother back, wishing him a good day at work. That’s when Dean sees it’s time for him to go.

\- “So, got the keys, do whatever you want, see you later”, he tells her as he exits his apartment.

He hears a goodbye when he grabs his bag, already prepared yesterday when he was sober. Keys and phone in his pockets, and his bag in his hands, he is ready for this whole new year of teaching.

***

When he arrives at school, everything is quiet, hopefully. Why the fuck did he got drunk the night before the first day of school ?! dean would admit it, it was totally his kind of behavior, but more in the middle of the year. Or the day before an exam so he doesn’t have to talk a lot and just wait for students to do their stuff. But the first day of school was a first.

Well, Lisa was a first too… No! Stop! Don’t think about it, Winchester. Lisa’s gone, end of the story.

Dean remembers perfectly the path it takes to get to his office, even after a few weeks without classes. There have been lessons during summer, yet nothing dean has really been invested in.

A few lessons about poetry, just one about theater. Maybe this year, if Dean had a very concrete project about leading a piece of theater with a few students, it would be great. Crowley, the principals, had never said no, but he had never said yes neither. Just something along “don’t make me waste my time”. Now, maybe if Dean had a good plan, Crowley would agree… how naïve, dean thought. A few teachers were already there and he stopped each time to say a little hello – he hopes no one can tell about his state and his hangover. What a dumbass – and asks about their vacations. Beach, kids, and husband: the perfect trio for some teachers. It was funny to him that some of them were already his teachers when he was a student. It was not so long ago, but Sammy and he have stayed for what? Two years – three maybe – in town before leaving with their father. So here he is standing, in one of his old high school where the paint on the walls is peeling, where one in five tables is almost breaking, where the canteen is still so filthy.

Nothing has changed and it is pleasant, peaceful.

His office – or rather the office he shares with the literature department of the school – is empty when he comes in. he turns on his computer and selects the documents he always prints and gives out to his student each first day of school.

This year, it’s a whole new program. Dean has spent a full month to choose texts to study for his five different classes. He even succeeded to get the right to spend two days with a class for whatever he wanted. Because yes: the ceiling of the gymnasium could well crumble, Crowley allowed each of the teachers to visit a museum, an exhibition, sports game with a class of their choice. He still has a month to think about it, also the idea to go see a piece of theater has been his main idea since he heard the news. But the thing is, Dean knows he’ll choose the class to go with, but the project will remain there. If his students want to go to the beach or even go shopping in a town, he would let them. Well obviously, he would find a way to do teachers-boring kinds of stuff as to visit a museum or something along with that, but later, he would give them free time.

With his photocopies ready, Dean sets off towards the first class of his day. He likes his room. Probably because it feels like home, and looks like his apartment. Film posters on the walls, a small bookshelf on the right side of his desk and nice curtains.

He doesn’t know if his students like it but when he is supposed to spend a whole day in the same room, he feels better watching his Pulp Fiction poster or having his “best brother of the world” cup on his bookshelf. He sits on his desk, waiting for the kids to come in. While waiting for them, he looks at the list of names. He recognizes some but is also pleased to meet new ones.

He hears a few “hello professor” and some students come to talk to him. It’s nice, he thinks, to be able to talk to them so freely since day one. When the bell rings the class is full of faces. People talking to their friends or making new ones, people hiding in the back of the class and even student already ready to note everything he is about to say. All of this makes him smile.

\- “Ok, class. I am professor Winchester, welcome to my class of literature. I recognize some face from last year, and it’s nice to see again. For the others, welcome and happy to meet you”, he starts as they quickly sit on their chosen chair.

He hears some of the girl's yearnings after him, almost immediately followed by mean looks by some boys of the class. A usual day, Dean would say. He is used to girl’s sigh – and sometimes, even some boys.

\- “As we are going to be together for the rest of the year, I prepared you a sheet of paper which you will happily complete”, he says while giving them out. “Name, date of birth, favorite book and author, info about you, etc. It is for me to know you better.”

He watches his new students grabbing a pen and answering the questions. They look obedient to the majority, which makes Dean chuckle. He doesn’t remember ever being that docile towards a teacher.

\- “At the end of this, you’ll see an empty case. If there is something I need to know about you, please feel free to write it down so I know about it. I won’t judge you for whatever you write and… Yes, Mrs…?

\- Milton. My name is Anna Milton, I have a question. What do you want us to write in it?

-So much to write, huh?”, a boy interrupts her from the back of the class and everyone laughs. “Look, Milton”, he adds, and Dean can finally put a face on the voice. “Teach’ just wants to know if you are disabled or whatever and if your father is not beating you to death, at home. Don’t make it about your cats, no one cares about ‘em.”

Everyone chuckles and dean is shocked for a second before he pulls himself together. No one seems to notice, hopefully. He turns to face the read-head in front of him.

\- “Okay, calm down everyone. Anna, whatever you want to write Is fine, even if it’s about cats. If you judge it’s something that I need to know, go for it”, he answers her and she seems to be happy with it because she starts to write down. He then looks at the boy, raising an eyebrow as a silent question to ask him his name. Ash. It’s a name he has never heard, probably a new student in Laurence. “Ash, don’t interrupt me if it’s to mock someone else. So next time you want to say something clever, don’t hesitate. If it’s for anything else, I think I can answer Anna alone, thank you. And finally, yes, me knowing if you are handicapped is a plus as I can adapt the exercises in class. If you write that but you tell me you don’t want other people to know, I will not tell, it will be a secret between you and me”, he adds with a wink he almost immediately regrets. But well, being sympathetic has never killed someone.

The next part is harder, but Dean knows he can go through it. It’s not his first time as a teacher. He has a few years – five to be precise – of experience and he is not a child anymore. It's not as if his father was going to come in by smashing the classroom door, as he had been able to do with his bedroom when he was little. He takes a small breath, a one he is sure no one will notice.

\- “Then, if you have a problem at home, please let me know. I can help you. Sure, I hope you are all doing well”, he adds in order to clear the air, “But just so you know, you have a listening ear right in front of you.”

Some students nod, some look at others as if they can see through clothes, looking for bruises, and some are writing. Dean doesn’t know which behavior he prefers but at least, they are reacting to what he has just said.

It takes five more minutes to gather up the sheets which he puts on his desk to grab some others.

\- “Now, let’s talk about literature. I am giving you out the plan of the lessons for the year. Ah! Now that I think of it”, he stops in the middle of the class, studying each face as he keeps talking. “I want to do a new project in high school and it’s a piece of theater (he hears a slight revolt in the class). Yes, I know, I said piece of theater, but thanks to my lessons, you will quickly be enjoying it. I am looking forward to your ideas and volunteers.

\- Which one?”, Anna asks.

He turns on his feet to look at her. Looks great, maybe one participant of whatever the piece would be.

\- “Well that, Anna, is one of the many questions we need to answer (he says as he rubs his hands with impatience). Does anyone has an idea about a play we could do?”

Shakespeare is the first name he hears from an unknown voice but before he can react, grimaces are seen and revolts are heard. Someone talks about writing a piece about Woolf and most of the girls agree. At the end of the little discussion, many ideas are presented – Dean wrote all of them on the blackboard – but no one seems to agree on one precise idea.

\- “The class could do it. If we are together, it’s better, isn’t it?

\- Oh, shut up, Anna! -Ash! And besides, no, I won’t force anyone, only passion, interest, and joy.”

Time flies and when the bell rings again, he is surprised.

\- “Fine everyone. See you tomorrow. I’ll explain the plan for the year, the books to read and the oral presentation I want you to do for the rest of the class.”

His two next classes allow him to talk about the program as he already decided not to talk about his project of a piece of theater to focus on his lessons. It is already time for lunch when all his students leave his class.

By the end of the day, he has a nice stack of papers, all of them being the information about his students he will gladly read tonight. When he takes them to put them in his bag, a small piece of paper sticks out from the stack.

A single note, a piece of torn paper between two sheets. And written on it, only seven words. Seven tiny words that may change a whole life. It probably belonged to either the paper before – a certain Alastair – or the next one – Kevin Tran, a student Dean had in his class last year. But the writing doesn’t match either of them.

Dean looks at his watch, already too late to stay in the school if he doesn’t want to be locked in it. So he puts all his things in his bag and walks towards with the promise to read the note when he is in peace at home.

But the few words will be forever in his mind.

“Dear professor, can you keep a secret?"


	2. Find me

“Dear professor, can you keep a secret?

The words haunt him. 

It may be a joke, a really bad one. It wouldn’t be the first time a student is making fun of him. He has very long (and funny) stories about his students pranking him at school. Most of the time, it is done without any harm, and the day before vacations or the last day of school. For the other part… Well, let’s say that Dean can be very creative about punishment.

It’s fun to tell about the pranks during the “Friday nights” he is used to doing with Charlie, Benny, Sam, and Eileen. This tradition has been going on for two years and they never failed to miss one. Sure, all of them can’t be there each week but they always succeeded to be a minimum of three, sharing a pizza at the place of one of them, watching a movie or two. This Friday will be at Charlie’s and Dean is eager to meet them. 

It’s still Monday and Dean already knows he will talk about this mysterious note on Friday. He needs advice from his friend as it’s the first time he is in such a situation and he feels scared to fail. How could he not talk about it when something as unusual as this is happening to him?

Another thing he is sure he will hear about on Friday is the “Bela Talbot” incident from yesterday's party. In his shared conversation on his phone with Benny and Charlie, Dean had discovered 20 unread messages when his day at school was done. His two best friends are fighting over that girl.

Sure, Dean could easily tell she is a beautiful woman - and it wouldn’t be the first time (or even the last one) they fight for a girl - but their common interest for her has him surprised. Maybe if Lisa hadn’t been part of the equation, he would have tried his luck with Bela, and maybe would have had a very sportive night. 

But with Lisa in his mind, it was off the table. Now, maybe he could send a message to Lee… It’s been a long time since they haven’t met. 

However, he could tell Bela seemed to be interested in him, so maybe next time...Even if she decided to follow Benny for the night, Charlie still couldn’t bear with it. To be fair, she had always been the bad loser kind when it came to her crushes.

But reading their messages in the shared conversation made him laugh as they were fighting like teenagers.

He drives home like a robot, parks his car in the subdivision garage, and walks towards his apartment without thinking of it. He waits until he is on his couch to take the piece of paper out of his bag. The words are still written on it, the exact same he had read one hour ago.

There is no name, no clue that can help him to find who wrote this. Only the writing style and the shape of the letters can be used as proof to recognize the author. The most possible thing is for the note to have been left from his first lesson of the day. That’s why Dean gathers up every information card from this class and spreads them on the ground to have a better view – and also have more space. He immediately excludes all the writings that are too coarse to be like the elegant one of the note.

Passing quickly over some cards, he sees that the empty square for information is often empty, which is not a reason to oust them. It is also a relief to find the kids are safe. After all, if this student left such a secret note, it was not to write something in the  box dedicated to it. He wanted to be discreet. Anonymous. So how could Dean ever take this as a joke?

If Dean… 

If Dean had the bravery to talk to someone about his problems, he certainly would have done it the same way. An insignificant, lost, and small piece of paper. And if this someone really wanted to help him, they would have to prove they’re motivated. That they want to help. So if this kid is looking after him, then Dean would give the earth to help them.

When he is done excluding the information cards, Dean feels lost. Maybe he excluded  _ THE  _ card he shouldn’t have. Maybe he failed his mission… It is a desperate kid’s scream for help. Dean would have never dared to voice his own. Hell, he never talked to Charlie and Benny about all the things he had to do when he was a teenager. Things he wants to forget so badly but he had to do so his brother and he could have something to eat and feel warm day after day, night after night. Yet, Charlie, Benny, and Sam know some of the things that happened to him. He couldn’t hide the bruises forever, but he never said them out loud. And a kid from half his age was. How could Dean not help him in response? It was simply impossible.

Finally, only eight sheets are placed in front of him. Writings are almost the same. Their “e” are more or less alike. This strange way to do the points at the end of their sentences also is. The way the sentences are being composed. The words the student used. The strongness of the feelings they want to share with someone else.

When he raises his head, it’s already almost night. He goes to look for a glass and a bottle of whisky. Beer is not enough for what he is trying to do. 

He walks to the window, looking at the street. Leaves have started to fall and the lights are already turned on. Some passersby are walking. A mother and a child. A man coming home after a day at work. He takes a sip of his glass. 

He feels like he's back in his past. Looking through a window like he is either waiting for his father to come home or to check John will  _ not _ come home. 

When he looks at the entrance door, he doesn’t know how many times has passed but Charlie’s figure enters the room, frowning. He must be offering her a very poor show: he is in the dark, eyes lost, standing next to a window, and an empty glass in his hand. 

\- “What the hell is happening here? What are you doing?”, she asks, slowly coming in. 

She takes her jacket and her shoes off and carefully comes near Dean. She whistles when she sees all the mess around Dean. 

\- “Okay, the information cards”, she declares after having taken one of them in her hands. “I love it, you know that.”

Her eyes fall on the eight sheets and the seven different piles of papers. Seven for each of his classes, and the eighth because the one student he is looking for is among them. It has to be. 

\- “Except you usually wait for me”, she exclaims, visibly disappointed. “Okay, what’s with that face of yours?”

She drops the disappointment to be worried. He must look like a creep or be very helpless. Well, to be true, he is the latter. At least, he hopes so. He is about to hand her the piece of paper but holds back at the last second from doing it. How could he betray the secret of this teenager?! But it doesn’t prevent Charlie from understanding something bad is going on.

\- “Dean, what’s going on?”, she asks slowly, not sure if she wants to know.

\- “I’m… Huh… I’m looking for a teenager. Someone send me this among the information cards. Find it by chance. They are probably hidden in these eight ones but I can’t find them. Anyway, I’m getting tired but I want to find them by tomorrow. I’m the worst. 

\- Okay, stop it, Winchester. First, you’re not. Second, put it down for now, let's turn the light on, I’ll cook so come here and help me.

\- You can’t cook”, Dean mumbles, going back to where he was previously sitting and lays on the floor.

\- “That’s what I’m telling you”, she pauses and turns to face him, dramatically pointing a spatula at him. “You come here and help me.”

She turns the light on and Dean squints at the sudden light. He rubs his face with his hands.

\- “Not hungry”, he replies, sounding grumpy. 

\- “So, what do you want?”, she asks nonetheless. “Pasta, or pasta or pancakes?”

Dean raises his upper body, leaning on his elbows, and watches his friend who is busy taking a package of pasta from a shelf. He rolls his eyes to Heaven but stands up anyway. When he looks at his clock, he finds out it’s 9 PM. He has already spent three hours looking for the teenager and a part of him wants to give up. 

\- “You know”, Charlie says while grabbing a saucepan and fills it with water. “You can always ask your students to do homework. Like that, you’ll have more clues to find them thanks to their writings and more time to find them.”

But Dean wants to keep up with the teen’s expectations. Now. There is no time for homework and having more time. He needs to find the kid right now. Other way...

To take care, it’s all Dean can do. It’s all he knows. To take care of other people before himself. That’s certainly why Lisa has dumped him. He hides his face in his hands. He remembers the face Sam had done when he told him he wanted to be a teacher. Sam looked confused. Even more when Dean said he wanted to go back to Lawrence. 

After all, it was where their mother died. 

Sure, a note like that is unexpected. For it to be anonymous is also very stunning. 

And suddenly, an idea. 

\- “Fine”, he sighs. “Help me.”

He folds the paper so that only the first sentence can be read.

\- “”Dear professor, can you keep a secret?””, she reads out loud, staring off into the distance. Dean can easily read her mind: so many possibilities, a maybe scared teenager. She feels just like Dean does: lost. “Okay, let’s find the kid”, she adds with motivation.

But Dean can tell she is pretending. She doesn’t know what to do, nothing more than Dean has already done. Yet, she doesn’t ask other questions, doesn’t make any other remarks. Dean likes that with Charlie. They’ve been friends for so many years that Dean has lost count. He likes how they both understand each other without a word needed. 

Thanks to Charlie, there are only five cards left. One had been saved for the stack “no” and four had been taken out of the eight information cards Dean had chosen. 

Five cards and only one note.

She takes her phone to give the call and twenty minutes later, she almost runs to the door, grabbing Dean’s wallet on her way, to get the pizzas and pay the man.

\- “Alright. One of them is the mysterious kid”, she says while chewing her  first bite of pasta. “They are all the same. Anything on the “do  you want to tell me something?” written, usual kinds of stuff for the  other questions, almost the same writings… Huh… So Ash, Becky, Meg, Castiel or Balthazar… You know them?”

Dean shakes his head.

\- “Balthazar was there last year. Supposed to be in my class, came the first day and never again. Becky… Becky is part of my Fanclub, I guess? Meg  – 

  
\- Wait,  you have a Fanclub?! How is it I’ve never heard of it! 

\- It’s  kinda… disturbing. She is really nice, from what I’ve heard from other teachers and a well-known cheerleader. 

  
\- But  it’s the first time she is in your class, right? 

  
\- Indeed. Meg… Meg and Castiel, they are friends. Meg is way more talkative and sometimes has problems with other people like fights. 

  
\- The rebellious kind?

\- So when you spot her, the little nerdy guy next to her is always Castiel. Good grades. I heard he is on the swim team. Huh… I had his twin brothers with me, three years ago, Michael and Lucifer. 

\- Michael and Lucifer?” She splits into laughter and Dean can’t help chuckling too. “What the Hell?!

\- Surprising at first. Not that much when you know their family is very religious…”, he watches his best friend roll her eyes to Heaven. “They want the very best. You have no idea how much they can give orders to teachers for their children to have the best grades. 

\- Poor kid.”

She takes Ash’s piece of paper.

\- “And Ash. I met him today. Told a girl to shut up and almost insulted a girl.”

And then, she asks the question he has been trying to avoid for the last hours.

\- “If it had been you, how would you have…?”

Oh yes, he knows. His mind is blank. First, because he has never done this; second because he was a coward; third because he has no idea.

When he was their age, he was the rebellious child at the extreme. When something could be destroyed, it was. Was it the heart of a girl, a window, or whatever. So from this perspective, it’s either Meg or Balthazar or Ash.

\- “Forget about them”, he says calmly. “It’s Castiel.”

A few seconds pass before Charlie makes a move. It’s instinct. Pure instinct but it’s like his whole body is screaming his name.

\- “What? How?”

His heart beats faster. He is sure it’s him, after having read the note. When he looks closer at his presentation card, he can see no detail, no clue but it’s everywhere, Dean can sense it.

\- “Kids like me, they wouldn’t have done this”, he starts saying before he is interrupted by his best friend's face and her very visible lack of understanding. “It’s more a feeling, a shared experience. When you’re like I was, you think no one can help you. That you’re alone against the whole world. It’s certainly not a teacher who can help you, a teacher is just here to learn your boring kinds of stuff. That’s why it must be a student who will listen to you when you say “trust me”. Ash, Meg, and Balthazar are too closed-minded. Balthazar doesn’t even bother to come to class anymore so he would have never done this. 

\- “Except if it’s a joke?”, she asks but it sounds more like a whisper. “What does it say?”

Dean has thought about it at first but Charlie hasn’t read the note, she doesn’t know. He doesn’t answer her question. It’s his secret. It’s Cas and his secret. 

  
  


Dear professor, can you keep a secret?

I am scared at home. It may sound stupid to you but I don’t feel normal. I am not what I should be and I can’t deal with it.

I am afraid I can’t meet my parents’ expectations. Everyone thinks I must be perfect. And I’m scared I’ll never be and disappoint everyone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos!   
> I'm doing my best, hope you enjoy it :D


	3. Talk to me

His bet is on Castiel.

He reads with more attention his card information as if he can make the boy appear in his living room and ask him questions about the message.

Everyone has ever felt like this when they were younger. Unsafe, ill-at-ease, abnormal. And Dean would be so glad to talk about it in a peaceful place. Truth is, Dean is relieved Castiel’s story is not like his. No violent father, no dead-mother, no moving out every year or so. He can finally breathe. Charlie senses it too because she sighs and heads towards the bookshelf to pick a DVD to watch.

_ Lord of the Ring _ , of course. Charlie wouldn’t be Charlie, then, and it makes Dean smile.

\- “Come on man, you have other students to discover.”

He picks his stack of sheets, paying attention not to mix up every class, and starts reading them. Most of them are about the usual stuff and it only is important if Dean needs to contact a parent. Apart from that, he is amused to read about their favorite author and book. Some had tried to fool him by talking about movies and producers but Dean doesn’t take it too seriously. Anna indeed to talk about her cats and Dean smile. He likes to read the sheet each new year, having to discover new people. It also helps to know his students a little bit better. 

The weight on his shoulders is far less suffocating than before and he can finally breathe. He even allows himself to laugh next to Charlie when she tells her about her new job, feeling guilty for not having asked her about it sooner. She bitches about her new boss, a certain Dick Roman – you can be sure Dean does dirty jokes about his name, which make them smirk like teenagers –, but she has already befriended her colleagues and Dean feels proud. 

Charlie leaves early and he spends one hour and a half watching another movie while preparing a new lesson for next week. When he rubs his eyes for the tenth time of the night, he decides it’s time to go to bed. He takes his jeans and t-shirt off and leaves them on the ground of his bedroom. He’ll take care of this tomorrow. For now, all he wants to do is to sleep. It rolls up in the sheets, feels the sleep coming, closes his eyes…

But he can’t fall asleep. 

What the Hell is he supposed to do tomorrow? What will he say to Castiel? What if it’s not Castiel? Where can he meet Castiel tomorrow? Can he really talk to him about the note or does Castiel not want to talk about it? Does Castiel regret telling Dean? What if Dean says something awkward and Cas hates him? What if…?

Dean can’t help but think about it. He has too many questions and no answers. Maybe if he waits until Friday to have some advice from his friends… 

It’s been a very long time since he drank until he passes out. Since he drank to sleep or because he is angry or nervous, or both. With time, he drinks to have a good night, because he enjoys having a drink. So why does he want to be drunk tonight so badly…

He is about to stand up and go into the kitchen when a new idea strikes him. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and clicks it on. He searches his directory for a specific phone number and dials the number. 3 rings later, the caller finally answers.

\- "Hey”, the caller says with a husky voice. 

Dean has probably awakened him. When Dean looks at his clock, it’s already 2 AM. 

\- “Sorry to bother you… It’s been a long time…

\- And you thought maybe we could meet? 

\- Maybe?”

The voice on the other remains silent before he can hear a sigh through his phone. 

\- “You coming?”

Dean nods eagerly, biting his lower lip. He can tell the man on the other side is smiling too. Then he feels stupid because of course, he can’t be heard when on the phone. 

\- Twenty minutes”, he replies, sounding sober to hide the joy in his chest. 

He picks up his things from the floor, gets dressed quickly, grabs his bag for tomorrow's class and a few extra clothes, and sets off. It’s been a long time since he hasn’t seen him and just to be in the same room is enough to make him shiver in excitement. 

He drives a little bit faster than he should, quickly climbs the stairs, and knocks on the door of an old apartment. The door opens quickly, a man standing in the way, and Dean walks in. 

The decoration of the room has not changed in the few months he was last there. Even if they haven’t seen each other for a while, it’s been three years since they haven’t had sex. Of course, being in a relationship with Lisa, he couldn’t meet Lee. Yet, when he sees him opening the door, he notices how much he has missed the man. 

\- “Want to talk a little?”, Lee whispers when he closes the door. When it’s shut, he walks towards Dean a cocky grin on his lips. “Or do we get a little more… handful?”

Dean doesn’t hesitate and grabs his shirt to have his face closer. When they kiss, it feels good. He lets the man lead him towards the bedroom, bumping into a wall and maybe a piece of furniture too, making something break into pieces on the ground but they don’t care. 

  
  
  


When he wakes up, he’s forgotten where he is. The room is different than it should be. Walls are no bluer, and his chest of drawers has become a wardrobe - which is not even in the right place. He moves a little, leaning on his elbows, something warm is beside him. His eyes fall on Lee’s face and he can’t help but smile. 

God…

This night of sex felt so good to release the tension because of Lisa and the mysterious note. And with Lee, it was even better than he expected. Probably because it’s been three years since he hasn’t been intimate with the man. Or with a man at all. He exits from the bed as silently as he can. Looking at the screen of his phone, he notices it’s early enough to go back home and change his clothes. He grabs his belongings and leaves Lee’s apartment. It’s not like it’s the first time he is having sex with him or even to do something as a punctual fuck to cool down. Dean throws a last glance at the living room before leaving. It’s full of movies and music. 

Nirvana… AC/DC… Pink Floyd...It makes Dean think about their childhood. They’ve met in Lawrence more than ten years ago. In a bar, the night of his 15 and flirting with a waitress. The next thing they know, they are rutting against each other and kissing hard. This night has been very… instructive, as one could say.

He walks out of the room, closes the door, and quickly reaches the impala. He is not in a rush but it’s not on his list to be late for school. He finds his apartment as it was when he left. There is still some empty bottle he hasn’t thrown away for now, and even two glasses that have been used as an ashtray he needs to wash… He sighs… He hasn’t the time for this, yet he can’t help grabbing some bottles on his way and throws them in the recycling bin. He needs to take care of that too. 

He goes to the bathroom, washing quickly and not even enjoying the hot water. He grabs a pair of jeans, a brief, a t-shirt, and socks and he is ready to go for a new day of school. Well, at least he hopes so. 

However, his good mood is quickly shaken when his right foot hits a small object on the ground. A book. It probably felt on the ground or someone moved it during the party …  _ Doctor Faustus _ by Marlowe. Strange someone would want to read this book by choice so probably a mistake. He takes the book in his hands and his eyes fall on his watch. Fuck. He is supposed to be at Lawrence High School in only thirty minutes and he still has to drive the distance. Without thinking of it, he puts the book in his bag and leaves his home. 

It’s only when he parks his car in the parking lot of Lawrence High School that he remembers the kid. Fuck. He hasn’t thought of a way to talk to him but he needs to. Should he talk directly to the kid? Maybe that’s what he should do but he hesitates. His instinct tells him to do otherwise. But what…? If he can’t talk to the boy about the note, then what is he supposed to do? He wants to ask his colleagues but it’s like his teenager-self is whispering to his ear that he can’t trust them.

After all, maybe Castiel has sent the same message to other teachers and they didn’t bother to tell someone else. His heart hurts for a second and Dean is not stupid enough to understand it’s jealousy. He likes to take care of other people and feels glad the kid opened up to him. So if he told someone else, then it would mean he doesn’t trust Dean enough. Or maybe an anonymous note would help Castiel to know which teacher would be the most invested in his problems. 

And about his problems… What should he say? That he thinks it’s normal for teenagers to have this kind of feelings and fears? Sure it is, but he can’t just go talk to the boy and say “it’s gonna be fine, don’t worry and do your best!” 

Before he can tell, the bell is ringing and he has to teach.

He does the same until the afternoon when it’s finally time to face the boy. He makes sure to arrive early in his class to see Castiel enter the classroom. A few minutes pass and still no sign of him. Ok, maybe it was finally a lot more dangerous than Dean thought it was and not just a teenage problem with his parents. Maybe it would even be as bad as Dean in the past ...

However, a young brunette girl enters the room, followed by a boy with dark hair. Castiel. Without him realizing it, their eyes meet and it is as if there was a click happening at Castiel's.

And before he can do anything, Castiel is already walking towards his desk, in the back row of the class. 

When someone stands in front of his desk, he notices he has been staring at the boy for too long. He clears his throat, his eyes now falling on Anna.

\- “Professor, I want to ask you about the books we must read for this year - 

\- Yes Anna, I enjoy seeing you that impatient but the lesson is about to start so I’ll tell the whole class.”

He is not the kind of teacher who doesn’t like their students. In fact, he is pretty glad to be liked by everyone and to like every of his student. Yet, at this precise moment, he can’t help but feel a little angry about Anna. Why is she talking to him while he could find a way to talk to Castiel?!

\- “Sure but I want to read them all before - 

\- Please Anna”, he replies, his voice a little harsher than he wanted it to be. “Just sit and wait. I’ll tell you in time”, he adds with a smile and a wink. 

She closes her lips as if she is preventing herself from saying anything. Then, she smiles too, politely, and Dean looks down to check the papers spread on his desk. Nothing has changed since he last wrote and read them, yet reading them keeps him away from looking at the boy. 

He has so many questions and wants so many answers, it is hard not to call the boy to ask him. 

During the following hour, however, he can’t stop glancing at Castiel. Of course, not every minute of the lesson… but a big amount of time. 

The hour passes quickly. Too fast. Way too fast, even. Dean walks back and forth across the room many times, either reading or explaining the class schedule for this year. Castiel is always on his mind: he has to find a way to talk to him, but subtly. And it’s harder than he thought first, what joy…

When the rings bell again for about the tenth time of the day, Dean says goodbye to the class. He’ll have to find a way to talk to him on Thursday...

He puts the rest of the planning papers in his bag. He has forgotten about the book. A long evening of cleaning is waiting for him when work is over. He looks up. There are still a few students left in the classroom, packing their belongings and talking to their friends. And  _ he _ is still here. That’s an opportunity Dean cannot not take. Before he thinks of it, his mouth is already speaking.

\- “Huh… Castiel, can you come, please? 

The boy looks up, meeting his eyes as if he is not sure he has just been called. Dean watches him say a quick word to Meg, and her leaning closer to Castiel to whisper something. Castiel grabs his bag and walks towards Dean, unsure of what to do or even why the teacher wants to talk to him. 

\- “Sir? 

\- I…”, he begins. That’s probably one of the stupidest things he has ever done in his life. What he is supposed to say, now?  _ Hey, I read your message! So you think you’re not important and scared to fail? Let me help you with my very adult advice!  _ How dumb… 

He rubs his face with his hands and let them fall on his side. And one of them fall on the bag and hit something. And then, an idea flashes in his mind. “I want to ask if you would like to be my assistant?

\- Your… assistant?”

The boy looks half-amused, half curious. Yet, he only frowns, tilting his head on the side which Dean is extremely strange and very, very unusual. 

\- “Yes, for the piece of theater I talked to the class yesterday. I’ve been thinking about it and I thought you could help me, right? You can still say no, of course. 

\- I would be glad to but… I don’t understand… Why me? 

And that’s the moment when Dean doubts. Either it’s not the person he is looking for, or giving him responsibilities is not what the boy is looking for. Of course, it wouldn’t mean he would take back the offer - if offer it is - and he hopes if Castiel doesn’t want it, then he would refuse it. 

\- “I know from other teachers you are a good student, well organized and maybe too shy to act on set”, which could easily be translated as  _ I think you send me a note and want me to help you, let’s find a way for me to know you better. _ “And I changed my mind: I want everyone to take part in the project.

\- Like a way out, then?

\- Well, I wouldn’t say it like that but in fact, yes, it is”, he adds with a chuckle. 

\- “What should I do then, if I agree?

-Right-hand man, organization of roles for the play, help me with staging, etc. Many things that I can’t do alone, that I can’t let one student do alone, but something we can both do. As a team.”

He can tell the boy looks interested. It will probably be one more line to apply for college, and months to lead a project for school.

\- “What do you say?”, Dean asks finally. 

The class is now empty. They are alone and no one will know what Dean asked Castiel. The choice is on him to say yes or no.

He seems to hesitate for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth but never daring to tell a word. But when he looks back at Dean, he has a smile on his face and he nods. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, you all!  
> Hope you like this new chapter as well


	4. Dream about me

Winchester’s assistant. Professor Winchester’s assistant. _Dean’s_ assistant. 

He likes these words. They roll on his tongue like sweets. Well, it surely would if he could say them aloud, but guess his mind is well enough for now. 

Meg hasn't wait for him so he can take his time to say goodbye to his teacher, leaving the room but stopping halfway to look at the man walking towards his office. He must look like a pervert. Or a psychopath. Not that it would bother him that much considering he is already known as the "weird guy" because of how difficult it is for him to talk to people and befriend. But it's fine. He has Meg. 

Now that he thinks about it, it's probably the reason why the teacher has chosen him... To make him feel include in the class. Maybe the teacher was even scared he would not be accepted in any group for the piece of theater. He feels thinking about it. Sure, a voice in his mind tells him it's because of - or thanks to - the note but how would the teacher even know he wrote it? There is no way. Absolutely no way. 

So why can't he stop hoping? 

He doesn't want to go back home. He has an hour left to go to the library of the school to work by himself but he doesn't want to do his homework for now. His parents will probably get mad about him but then again, it would be no different than the other days. Whatever he does, his parents are never satisfied with him. And he is getting tired of it, tired of never reaching his parents' high expectations, and thus, always fail whatever he does. 

Guess the note is the final warning before he totally drowns... 

He walks in the corridor, towards his locker. It is not far from the entrance so it's freezing. At least, his trench coat is keeping him warm, even a little. He opens his locker, finding in it books, books, and even more books. And three photographs. One of Meg and him, one of Gabe and him. The last one is a photograph taken by Gabe, a long time ago. 

He perfectly remembers the moment when his brother had stepped into his room, opened the window despite the cold of winter, and took out his camera from his bag. Castiel had said nothing, just watched him silently as ever. He took a photo of the sunset, snow covering the trees and grass. Then, he smiled and went out. The scene had just happened in a minute but it felt like a pause in Castiel's whole existence. But like his family used to say, "Gabriel is Castiel's hero". At least, he "was" for them. Now, even if Gabe is dead and he lost the only person who truly cared about him, he is still Castiel's own hero. 

He can feel tears coming so he shakes his head. There is no way he cries here, in the corridor of his school. He takes some of his books and rushes into the library. The place is empty, as usual. The librarian, Mrs. Hanscum, is there, everyone. She greets him - still as usual - and he takes place at his - usual - place, ready for an hour of work. Professor Garth, as he likes to be called by his first name, has given his students a lot of math homework but it doesn't bother Castiel. He is pretty good at math. He can't tell much in literature...

It's only forty minutes later that he receives a new message. It's probably Meg waiting for him. For sure, she is trying to distract him. However, his phone doesn't seem to stop from making light to have Castiel's full attention. He takes his phone out of his pocket, trying to stay quiet but it's not like he will disturb someone in the empty room. Even Mrs. Hanscum is out, probably eating a donut in the cafeteria with another teacher - maybe even M. Winchester. He has seen them once, by chance. 

MEG: I want to be damned in Hell if I don't comment how Cumberbatch is sexy each time I see him. 

MEG: Where are you?

MEG: Need your help with homework.

MEG: Stupid bitch gave us too much.

MEG: Like how am I supposed to know all this stuff?!

MEG: CAAAAAASSSSTIEL

MEG: I know you're there. Don't ignore me, Clarence. 

Castiel sighs. He guesses it's fine to answer if he is alone. And he is scared Meg could come into the library to interrupt him and make as much noise as she can. 

CASTIEL: You're supposed to learn them at school. 

MEG: Where are you?

MEG: Library or Dean's laps? 

He drops his phone. Well, it's more like the phone slips from his hands, but the result is the same. He doesn't take his phone for a few seconds, making sure no one is behind him, overlooking his shoulders. His heart is beating too quickly and is the proof of his guilt of having such thoughts and being so transparent about it to his best friend. 

CASTIEL: Library

MEG: Too bad. 

MEG: I'm sure he wouldn't mind...

That time, the phone doesn't slip from his hands. No, Castiel prefers to put it down and never watch it again for the last ten minutes. This conversation is going where it shouldn't. Dean - _Professor Winchester_ \- is a teacher. Castiel is perfectly aware that such gossips could cost him his whole career. Especially in such a little town. 

Thirty minutes later, he is in his father's car. They are not speaking, and the silence is almost suffocating. Each day after school, his father comes to take him from school, so he's making sure at the same time his son is working. There is no time to lose, he guesses. 

But a thing his father doesn't know is Meg's plans for their future. When he goes to college - and he wants to – then they will live together, and he will finally be free of doing what he wants to. At least, he hopes so.

They reach the house, walking towards the entrance, still not talking. Castiel may be used to it, it is nonetheless oppressive. It’s about to get worse as soon as he is inside, with both his parents. They will ask about his grades of the day, check on his homework, make him read things about the next lesson for the next day. And on and on. Everyday.

So when he opens the door and his eyes fall on his mother, he is shocked to be only welcomed by her with a polite smile. Instead, she walks toward her husband to ask him about his day. The house is normal. In the entrance – which is more a corridor than anything else – he can see the living door through the opened door on his right. In front of him is another door that leads to his father’s office. They are many photographs on the wall, most of them being about Naomi’s and Chuck’s wedding, and Michael's and Lucifer's many wins.

Castiel takes his shoes off, the same goes for his trench coat, ready to go upstairs and reach his bedroom when he is interrupted by his mother.

\- “Oh, and Castiel, please tell us when Meg is coming”, she says before going back to what she was doing.

He can’t help but smile. It’s like his parents can see it, though. Meg is here, waiting for him. He opens his door and indeed, Meg is sitting on his bed as if she is in her own bed. Not that Castiel is complaining, mostly because he is used to it.

He doesn’t say anything, but this silence is different from the one with his father. He sits on the chair on his desk and takes out the last homework he has to do. For sure, Meg hasn’t done it and that’s why he waited to be with her to do them. 

\- “What are you doing, Clarence?”, she finally asks and for a second, Castiel doesn’t even know what to answer.

\- “Homework… Can’t you see it?

\- Ok, come on, say it!” she says however while looking at him.

He tries to act as if he doesn’t know what she is talking about but he can tell it’s because of his stupid smile since… since professor Winchester talked to him.

To have a crush on his teacher… It sounds like the beginning of a very stupid story. But stupid doesn’t mean not romantic or not interesting, does it? And Castiel may be very credulous, he is not naïve enough to think the teacher could have something else in mind.

\- “Clarence, tell me!

\- Fine. I, with all my generosity, allow you three guesses.

\- Last time I saw you, you were with Professor D so tell me what he said, now.”

_Fuck._ _Predictable_.

They are the first two words that come to his mind. But he doesn’t know what he was thinking: Meg is his best friend, of course, she knew about his totally-secret-crush-on-a-certain-professor. And maybe she doesn’t know she is right on the first guess. Probably think it’s a joke.

Castiel could jump on it, tell her yes as a joke, and find something else but it’s already too late and Meg is looking weird at him.

\- “Seriously?!

\- … no.”

She raises an eyebrow, daring him silently to lie to her one more time. So he simply nods and hears her laugh. He doesn’t what she has in mind but it’s definitely very far from what _he_ can think of. And among them is kissing, flirting, touching… So no.

\- “What’s so funny, exactly?

\- You”, she says like Castiel is supposed to understand this easy statement that doesn’t mean anything.

What the hell “you” is supposed to mean, anyway?!

\- “You, and that attitude of yours. Come on, don’t pretend like you’re not happy about it. It’s not like you’ve been secretly staring at him since you moved in Lawrence. So what did he do?”

She is close now, there is no other chair so she is just leaning on the desk, her arms crossed and just waiting.

\- “You sat on his legs, hmm?” she asks, not entirely serious.

\- “No. He is a teacher and he will not lose his job because one of his students is having a crush on him”, he replies but now that he has started to speak, he can’t stop. “I mean have you seen him?! He is gorgeous and the guy knows it. All the girls from the class and even the teachers are at his feet. He likes his job. He _loves_ it. And he would certainly not throw it all for a stupid student.”

He is trying his best not to scream. His parents must not know about his crush and his sexuality. His parents expect him to marry a good girl, have a lot of children, have good work… Going out with a boy is definitely not on the list, even though he is pan. Meg is the only one he comes out, never daring to say it to anyone else. He takes a deep breath.

\- “He asked me if I want to be his assistant for the piece of theater. And he’ll talk about it on Thursday so don’t ask me.

\- That’s great”, she murmurs yet Castiel can tell this is just one part of her thoughts. She wants to say more. He raises his eyes to meet hers and she finally spits it out. “Clarence, is it related to the note you wrote on the first day?

\- I don’t want to talk about it.

\- But-

\- Please, I’m trying to concentrate so if you’re not working, go out.”

In the note, there is nothing Meg doesn’t already know. But he can’t help feeling relieved when she takes her belongings and leaves his room. He’ll send her a message later. He works thirty minutes more before his homework for the week is finally done.

  
  
  
  
  


The next day, when he goes to school, everything seems… strange. But he can’t say why or even what is weird. His parents are not screaming in the kitchen, his brothers are not running in the house, no one is remembering Castiel every five seconds to have the best grades. 

No, everything is quiet, peaceful even. 

He doesn’t even remember having eaten his breakfast or taken the bus that he is already at school. It is full of people walking towards the entrance. Meg is nowhere to be seen and it’s even more strange because they always go to school together. Another thing is the bees. Hundreds of them are flying near the school when they are usually no one. 

He doesn’t remember walking towards his first lesson, only to be _here_. As simple as that. 

Suddenly, the class is empty. Almost empty. Professor Winchester is sitting on the desk and staring at him. Castiel’s heart skips a beat, finally understanding he is the center of his teacher’s attention. He is looking at him in such a suggestive pose, and that’s the precise moment when Castiel understands it’s a dream. How could it not be? Of course, he is dreaming. Okay, so now, all he has to do is to wake up and…

\- "Castiel?"

… and professor Winchester is just here, for him alone. Fine, if it’s a dream, then sure, the teacher is waiting for him because that’s what Castiel wants but… Can he do what he wants to do? It’s just a dream and no one will ever know except him and his conscience. Yet, he can’t imagine facing the man on Thursday, not after all the thoughts in his mind. And the temptation is so tantalizing. It’s like his legs are walking on their own free-will, and here he is, standing in front of the man, very breathless for the little things the teacher has done to him: in just an intense gaze, his legs open in such a suggestive way, the way he said his name, just a few seconds ago...

Why the hell does he have a crush on this man?! Why couldn’t it be a classmate? Someone else? Someone less gorgeous and amazing… Either way, he is sure he is about to die because of his racing heart.

These lips. There are no words in the world to tell how much he wants to kiss them. And they are just here, right in front of him. Instinctively, he reaches for his face, and his fingers brush the man’s lips. So red, so… open. His other hand falls on his side, accidentally touching the professor’s left leg.

He must look stupid, blushing like that. Yet, the professor chuckles and leans towards him. Why does he feel so hot? The teacher’s hand – Dean’s hand – slips up under Castiel’s shirt, massaging first the skin on his hip and then getting higher and higher. It feels like being high on drugs. As if his head is fuzzy but he does nothing to stop Dean. He wants to say his name out loud. It would feel _not right_ to call a teacher by his first name but considering the situation they are in…

He is about to call for him when he is interrupted by Dean and _Fuck_ , he is already about to come.

\- “Take off your shirt for me, Cas”, Dean whispers in his ear.

He hasn’t noticed the man is this close to him. Dean’s other hand reaches for the bulge in his pants, slowly stroking him through the pair of jeans. Castiel is sure the pleasure could be a lot more if he could lose the pants or anything else. Anything to have Dean touching him.

He hesitates to grab Dean’s cock, at first because he doesn’t know if he _can_ do it, and second because he doesn’t know _how_ to do it. It’s not like he has ever touched someone else so intimately.

\- “Go on, Cas, touch mine”.

That nickname… He is about to die. Or to come in his pants, that wouldn’t be very different. For the second time, he has the name of his teacher on his lips when suddenly, hard knocks are coming from the door. 

\- "Wake up, it's time to go to school."

He grumbles. A ray of shine lights the other side of his room. It's already morning but he doesn't want to wake up. He wishes he could go back to this dream. Maybe next time, if he can tell it's a dream he can try to control it. If he’s already feeling this way by a dream only, then what would it look like to be with the real man? Oh no!

\- "Don’t think about it, Castiel!”, he tells himself, while rubbing his face.

But he can’t help it. So just for a few minutes, he resumes his dream, fully conscious of what he is doing. Masturbating while thinking about his teacher is a first as he never dared to do it before. But he should have probably tried that before because it feels so good it almost hurt.

Imagining the man leaning on him, stroking their cocks together. Feeling the weight of his body on him. Licking his lips and tongue, and kissing him until they are breathless. The pressure on his cock, the tension in his belly, all of this is perfect. Restraining his moans the best he can, he empties himself in his hand, not bothering to clean it up right after.

For God’s sack… How much he wants this man… He shouldn’t yet it feels so good… Maybe if he’s lucky and waits for two years, until he turns 18 and is no more his student, and if the teacher is – hopefully – gay or bi… But it takes a lot of luck, and if Castiel is sure of one thing, it’s that he has never been lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping on reading this fic ! :D  
> I know it is not perfect but I'm doing my best !  
> Again, thanks for the kudos :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, my life is a Mess (TM) right now, but it's okay!   
> As usual, I hope you like this new (and very short) chapter :D

The day starts badly. First, because he burnt his lips with his usual morning coffee. Second, because there is no more hot water to talk a shower. And third, because he has an appointment with the principal, Mr. Crowley, so they can go on with the piece of theater project.

He spent Wednesday with his brother, trying to figure out which piece is better, and easier to do. If he gets to motivate his students, they can do something well; but the opposite is also correct if they don't want to do it and then... Dean is not sure he wants to see it.

In the end, Sam gave him a very good idea: to do different scenes from different works so every student can separate into groups of work and thus, to choose what they want to play. An easy way to make his students take part in the project. 

At best, Crowley agrees and they can show their play at the end of the year, maybe in the gymnasium, with some guests, and families, and friends. In the worst case, however, Crowley is a dick and the project is wiped out before it even starts. This is even worse somehow because he has already chosen his assistant and he would have to tell him. Or maybe Castiel won't even be disappointed... After all, he was very suspicious of Dean's idea, but also quite happy about it. Dean can't tell exactly. 

Or Dean is just imagining things and Castiel will be happy not to work with an old teacher. Even if he is just thirty... Dean's problem will then be about Castiel's note. If Castiel is his assistant, then they can have moments to bond and Dean can learn to know his student better. If he can't anymore, then guess he'll just improvise, and try his best not to talk about his life and his personal experiences. A young boy 16-year-old boy sure doesn't want to listen to a 30-year-old man harp on his life like a knows-it-all. 

But hey, it's too late now. He knocks at the door, waiting to hear a voice from the other side. A few seconds later, the door opens on a woman. Missouri Moseley, Crowley's secretary. She was already there when Crowley took the place of the last principal, and even when Dean was a mere teenager. Needless to say that he spent a lot of time with her in detention. He remembers doing his homework or drawing stupid things while she was calling his father and then taking care of many things. 

\- "Dean", she welcomes him by opening the door so he can enter. "It's a pleasure to see you after such a long time.

\- Hi Missouri", he replies as he hugs her. 

\- "Come to see the boss?"

He rolls his eyes to heaven, making her laugh. 

\- "He is busy right now, come sit down next to me", she says while going back to her desk. Her smile disappear and she suddenly seems to be very serious when she adds: "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table -

\- ...I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!", Dean completes with a chuckle, yet scared she has read her mind once again. She used to say that to him whenever he wanted to do so during detention. "I was 16, that doesn't count.

\- I don't want to hear about it", she replies. "How is your brother doing?

\- He is fine. A good lawyer. Eileen is pregnant so wait a few month and he's gonna be best dad ever", he adds, his voice lost as if on a dream.

Dean sighs but sits down anyway on one the chairs next to the wall near her desk. 

-"I'm sorry for your loss, my dear."

Dean raises his eyes, meeting Missouri's ones. Of course she knows about it. He doesn't know how she can see so well through him. Like she can read him like an open book. 

\- "Lisa may be nice, but maybe she is not the one for you."

Dean chuckles, then sighs. He hasn’t find the time to mourn his relationship with her. He used to think he would marry her and have children with her, but his dreams are all gone. And now, the only thing he can think of is his work or he’ll drink all day long.

If Missouri says someone is really made for him, she better show up very soon. _Or he_ , he can't help thinking, but doesn't think about it too much. 

\- “Ah, professor Winchester”, he hears someone coming from the right side call for him. Crowley. _What a dumbass_ , he thinks but it doesn’t prevent Dean from smiling to Crowley. “Come in, I have an appointment in ten minutes”, he says, already going back to his office, expecting Dean to follow.

_He looks like a king talking to his court_ … Yet, Dean diligently walks in the room, a smile still on his face, and shuts the door, meeting Missouri’s eyes as a final complain.

\- “So, what is your problem?”, Crowley asks, elbows on his desk and his chin on his joined hands. He seems to bored already and Dean hasn’t said a word yet. But well, if the man wants to play, they can be both at this game and Dean sure knows how to be a pain in the ass. But not too much so Crowley agrees to the project.

\- “I want to do a piece of theater with one of my class. Different scenes from different pieces of theater, to be more precise. And –

\- Which one?”, Crowley interrupts him.

\- “Shakespeare was one of the first answer, they also –

\- So you already talked to them, that’s what I must understand, is that right?

\- Yes”, Dean simply answers. If Crowley wants to interrupt him so bad, he’ll lose this game. Even if Dean looks like a child, he only looks at Crowley who seems to be either waiting for Dean to go on with his explanations, or he is thinking. And as he is not used to think, it must be complicated for the man.

\- Fine. If your students already know about this project and they want to do it, then I’d be a monster to refuse that to them, right?”

Dean nods. Okay, this is unexpected.

\- By tomorrow, I want a paper of every scenes from every pieces of theater, every student and their role – actor or not.

Ah, that is expected from the man. Even if ‘demon’ would be better to describe him.

\- Tomorrow?! How am I even supposed to do that?

\- It’s your class, professor. I am sure you will find a way”, he adds with a smirk. “Besides, the show will happen during our opening day. Parents will be happy to watch it, don’t you think?

\- The opening day in four months…

\- Exactly.”

Right now, Dean just wants to ask him if Crowley actually hates him. Or what he has done to Crowley.

For tomorrow, he has to know every scene, every role, and plan every rehearsal in only four months. Castiel as his assistant is a very, very good idea because it seems to be impossible. And it’s only because Crowley decides that.

\- “Fine”, Dean replies after a second.

He stands up, shaking Crowley’s hand and going back to his office, not even carrying about the couple waiting with Missouri until he hears Crowling’s greetings.

\- Mr. and Mrs. Novak, it’s a pleasure to see you again”, Crowley says with a big smile and his face and his most delicious fake voice. “I’m sorry, my appointment with Professor Winchester took more time than I thought. Come in.”

Dean nods as a silent hello and an agreement for Crowley’s excuses. He looks at the clock. Their appointment has only last five minutes…

\- “Mr. Winchester, it is a pleasure to meet you”, the mother says, shaking Dean’s hand vigorously.

\- “Same here, Mrs Novak”, he answers before leaving the room when the parents come in to talk to Crowley in private.

The corridor is crowded of students when he walks towards his office.

He needs to think quickly. Or to call his brother. He has always been better at him for that kind of things. Dean is more the shoot then talk type of guy. That doesn’t mean it’s impossible for him to plan everything, but it would be easier for Sam…

He needs to think about the different scenes so every student can choose a role. Yes, that’s what he has to do. He also needs to take care of every other important roles such as the costume designer, a stage manager and on and on.

He opens the door of his office only to find out many other teachers are already in the room. And making loud noises that will prevent him from thinking. So it’s a no for this room. He goes back to the corridor, heading towards his class when he suddenly bumps into someone.

\- “Fuck”, he spits it out without thinking and then he realizes. “Huh, sorry… I meant… Oh fuck it –“

When his eyes fall on the boy, he stops. Black messy hair, and very bright blue eyes. Of course.

\- “Professor, I’m sorry”, Castiel says with a very low voice while the girl next to him is looking at him and laughing.

\- “No, it’s me. I wasn’t looking where I was going”, he adds, followed by a few seconds of silence during which the boy keeps on avoiding to meet his eyes, and the girl – Meg he guesses – is having a good time. “Huh, okay. See you later.”

He walks on a few steps before stopping once again in the corridor.

\- “Actually no”, he whispers to himself before going back to Castiel. “Do you have a lesson right now?”

The boy looks at him with surprised eyes as if he is chocked that someone is talking to him. Or maybe Dean looks like a crazy man with all the thoughts going on his mind.

\- “No, he is going to go to the library to study as if he needs to. He is totally free”, Meg answers before Castiel can say anything.

Castiel suddenly turns his face to look at Meg like a deer caught in the light of a car. 

\- "If you want to study or anything else, there is no problem", Dean says to Castiel. "But I would enjoy your company as my assistant for the "piece of theater project", if you don't mind."

Castiel nods but doesn't move for a second. And when he finally does, Dean would bet it's because Meg pushed her friend in the back rather than Castiel moving on his free will. Meg leaves them without looking at his friend, but Dean can tell she is smirking. 

\- "Fine, okay. Come with me, I need your help."


End file.
